


Femslash February 2020

by thecloudqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecloudqueen/pseuds/thecloudqueen
Summary: A collection of short fics following the prompts by femslashfeb on Tumblr!
Relationships: Arya Stark/Missandei, Asha Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, Ashara Dayne/Elia Martell, Brienne of Tarth/Margaery Tyrell, Elia Sand/Sansa Stark, Jeyne Poole/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Mormont/Arya Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Arya Stark, Sansa Stark/Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	1. Rainbow (Sansa/Brienne)

“Why did Renly call them the Rainbow Guard?”

Brienne was used to such questions. Seemingly out of nowhere, Queen Sansa would ask about another ruler’s methods, to roll them around in her head and determine their strengths and flaws. She assessed them like a commander did a battlefield, and with every observation that Sansa made, Brienne was glad her own battles were fought with sword and shield, not quill and raven.

“To distinguish himself from Stannis and Joffrey. He spoke of creating a new era - one blessed by the Seven.” The rainbow was sacred to the Faithful.

“Of course,” her queen mused. “No doubt reminding the faithful that he followed the Seven, not the Red God like his brother. A shame the Northerners would take offense at being associated with the Seven, or I might have taken a similar approach. I had wondered if -” She cut out, a blush coloring her cheeks pink. Brienne waited.

“I had wondered if it was a reference to the Rainbow Knight. A silly idea, I know…”

“Not silly at all, your grace,” assured Brienne quickly. The Rainbow Knight and Lady Shella was a lesser known story, but of course both Sansa and Brienne knew all the stories. The Rainbow Knight wore no house’s sigil, but dressed in armor that reflected rainbows no matter the weather, or so the legend said. They said he was sent from the Seven themselves, to rescue the pious Lady Shella from her kidnappers. He had killed all seven of her kidnappers by himself, and pledged to defend and love Shella the rest of her life. “I don’t know if Renly knew the tale, but it was one of my favorites.”

“Mine as well,” Sansa admitted. She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Arya wishes for me to establish a Queensguard so that she can, to quote, ‘go on with her life and stop worrying that the incompetent guards are going to get me killed.’ But the Northerners would detest anything related to the Targaryens - I can’t just go about giving out white cloaks.”

Brienne nodded, although a part of her was offended. “As one of your guards, I do hope Princess Arya does not mean me.”

Sansa’s laugh was as soft and gentle as a little bell, but it was genuine. Brienne had to smile. It was too rare that Sansa laughed these days, but it was beautiful when she did. “Never fear, good ser, you are the only one she trusts with me. In fact, you may be the only one I trust as well.” Her smile faded as she clasped Brienne’s large hand in her own. “You mean more to me than a whole army of knights, Brienne.”

Sansa pulled away. Absurdly, Brienne wanted to reach out and grab her hand again.

“I may not be a full Rainbow Guard, but I can be your Rainbow Knight,” promised Brienne, before realizing how stupid she sounded. The Rainbow Knight was more than just a protector - all the stories say that he loved Lady Shella, though he never dishonored her. She could feel her face heating up at the implication of what she had said, and Sansa looked uncomfortable. Before she could backtrack, or apologize, (but not take back her words), Sansa spoke.

“I would like that, Brienne,” was all Sansa said before she leaned forward and placed a kiss on her Rainbow Knight’s lips.

After a second of shock, Brienne returned it.

Two weeks later, Sansa presented Brienne with a rainbow cloak she had made herself. “For my Rainbow Knight,” she declared, in front of the whole court, and as she placed it on Brienne’s shoulders, it was better than any marriage ceremony she could have imagined.


	2. Bloom (Sansa/Margaery)

“Good morning, Sansa!”

The sky outside was black. That meant either it was not morning, or the long night had come again, in which case it was certainly not a good morning. Sansa mumbled something that might have been “Why are you up?”, but came out as a grunt. Margaery ignored her.

“Come on, look outside!”

Realizing her lover would not stop talking, Sansa forced herself out of their bed. Outside showed no signs of the Others returning, which was probably a good thing, although it confirmed that it was far too early to be awake. Margaery was laughing as she pointed. “Look! The spring roses are blooming!”

All of the roses in the garden looked similar. Sansa stared until Margaery sighed and pointed to a bush near their window. The flowers were admittedly beautiful, both pink and gold, but not worth waking up for. Margaery sighed. “When the spring roses bloom, it means winter is officially over and Spring has come. When I tell Willas, today will be declared a day of celebration! It’s a tradition in the Reach. And I know just how to spend it.”

That did sound exciting. “I’m sure it will be great, Marg. But can it wait a couple hours?”

After a couple of hours of sleep more, Sansa was ready to face the day. Margaery rushed her through getting dressed, and shook her head when Sansa suggested breaking their fast. “Come on,” her lover urged, leading her outside where two horses and a basket waited.

“We’re going on a ride,” declared Margaery, expertly mounting one of the horses. Sansa followed.

Their ride took them throughout Highgarden’s grounds. Sansa had been living here for several moons, but she still got lost among the flowers and hedges. Any questions about their destination were met with Margaery’s lilting laugh. “You’ll find out soon!” was all she said.

Finally, the girls arrived. Sansa’s breath caught. “It’s beautiful, Margaery.” The clearing in which they arrived was surrounded by roses and trees, blossoms of a hundred different colors. Sansa watched in wonder as birds and butterflies landed and took off again, not afraid of the women nearby. Margaery busied herself with unpacking her basket, laying down a blanket and setting out food. The smell of lemon cakes drew Sansa away from her gazing.

“Willas used to take me here as a child,” Margaery explained. “Mother and Father never came, and Garlan and Loras would get bored. But Willas and I would make a day of it, playing pretend and making flower crowns and avoiding our work at home. Only Tyrells ever come here, but I wanted to share it with you.” 

“Thank you.” Sansa leaned forward to kiss the other girl. “I’m so glad to be here.”

They spent the rest of the day there together, eating and joking and pointing out animals as they came by. Margaery found a bush of daisies and plucked them, deftly weaving them into a crown that she placed on Sansa’s auburn locks. “My Queen of Love and Beauty,” she declared, and was rewarded with a kiss. As the afternoon turned to evening, they rested on the grass, in each other’s arms, watching the sun make way for stars.

When the last bit of sunlight had disappeared, Sansa pulled away reluctantly. “We should probably get back.”

“Not just yet,” said Margaery. “There’s one more place I want to show you.”

They didn’t take the horses, who had been allowed to graze freely, this time. Instead, Sansa followed Margaery on foot to where a small hammock had been put up between trees. “Don’t you want to spend the first night of spring with me?”

As Margaery gently began to untie her dress, Sansa realized that she wanted nothing more.


	3. Secret (Sansa/Jeyne)

“Jeyne, what’s it like to kiss someone?” Jeyne was almost a whole year older than Sansa, and three months ago she had her first kiss, with some visiting lord’s second son. He was lowborn enough that Sansa was sure he would be allowed to marry Jeyne if they desired, but Jeyne had shrugged and said she wanted a gallant Southern knight, not a Northerner. Sansa agreed.

“Septa Mordane will be furious if she finds out I’m telling you,” whispered Jeyne shyly.

“I won’t tell her! Please, Jeyne, I have to know. What if it’s my wedding day and I don’t know how to kiss anyone? I’d be mortified!”

Jeyne sighed, but Sansa could tell she was reveling in the attention. There was a smirk on her face as she admitted, “It was wonderful. When we kissed, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. It was so soft and romantic.”

Sansa listened dreamily, imagining it. But when Jeyne stopped, she kept asking. “But, how does it work?”

“I’ll show you, if you want! It’ll be practice.” Sansa considered. It wasn’t really improper if they were just practicing, right? She nodded her confirmation.

Jeyne grinned. “First, he’ll lean forward, and sort of stroke your cheek.” As Jeyne leaned forward to demonstrate, Sansa considered closing her eyes and pretending that Jeyne was a true knight, but something made her want to keep her eyes open and gaze at her friend. 

“Then, he’ll get closer to you. At that point you’re supposed to close your eyes, it makes it more romantic,” Jeyne explained, and Sansa complied. But rather than imagining a generic knight, Jeyne’s face remained in her internal vision. “Then - ” and then Sansa was being kissed, Jeyne was kissing her, and she was walking on air. She felt warmth throughout her body, and she leaned into the kiss. She almost resisted when Jeyne pulled away, but of course she didn’t. 

Tentatively she opened her eyes. Jeyne was smiling from behind her blush.

“That was better than with Willam,” she admitted. Sansa smiled. “Do you want to keep practicing? It’ll be our secret.”

Proper ladies didn’t keep secrets. Sansa threw away all thoughts of being a proper lady as she nodded and leaned in for another kiss.


	4. Denim (Sansa/Elia Sand)

“I will give you... 2 dollars, 57 cents, and a lemon cake from my aunt’s bakery if you patch my jeans for me.”

Sansa looked up. That was not the way she was usually greeted. “Um... okay?” She normally would not have agreed, but she was a bit thrown off by the pretty, dark-haired girl who had asked her and was rummaging through her pockets, looking for more cash to offer. 

The other girl grinned. “Great. I’m Elia Sand.” She tossed a pair of jeans at Sansa who caught them, startled. “Good denim’s hard to come by when you’re a pear, and my dad’ll kill me if I ruin another pair of jeans. My sister Tyene says you’re a great seamstress. I can meet you Friday at noon at Sunspear Sweets.” Sansa nodded dumbly. Elia blew a kiss, waved, and disappeared, leaving Sansa standing there wondering what had just happened. 

The rip was easy enough to fix, and sure enough Elia was there at noon on Friday with two lemon cakes and two hot chocolates. “Thanks, you are an actual angel, lovey.” 

“It’s not that big a deal,” responded Sansa, blushing. Elia rolled her eyes. “Come on. Give yourself some credit, girl. I play three sports and can’t use a needle to save my life. My ex girlfriend said I was horrible with my hands, you know.”

Elia kept talking a mile a minute, peppering her speech with innuendos. But she also asked Sansa questions about herself, and actually listened to the answers. After a few hours had passed, their hot chocolate was cold and the barista was glaring at them, but Sansa was laughing too hard to notice them as Elia shared another story about her sisters. 

“So, do I need to rip something else to meet up with you again?” Elia was nothing if not blunt. 

“No, I’d like to hang too.” Even if the other girl was far wilder than most of Sansa’s friends, there was something about her that drew her closer. 

“Cool. Well, here’s the $2.57, and here’s something else I wanted to give you.” Elia stood up, pecked Sansa on the lips, and bounced off. 

She really didn’t know what to expect with Elia Sand. But whatever happened, it certainly wouldn’t be boring.


	5. Note (Elia/Ashara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much sadder than the previous chapters. Content warning for suicide.

Princess Elia,  
I believe you have had communications with my mother regarding my appointment as your lady-in-waiting. We met many years ago, princess, so I shan’t be offended if you do not remember me, though I remember you fondly. My name is Ashara Dayne, of Starfall. My brother Arthur serves on the kingsguard. Mother wishes me to depart within the moon’s turn, but if you have anything you wish for me to bring, please tell me. I eagerly await meeting you again.   
Ashara Dayne

Princess Elia,  
I may arrive before this letter, depending on the raven’s speed, but I wished to tell you I will certainly bring blood oranges with me. I always loved them, but Mother refused to buy very many. Perhaps she will be more inclined to send them if both of us were to ask? Forgive me, princess - I see you as more than a means to blood oranges, I assure you. The fruit is just an added benefit.   
Sincerely,   
Ashara Dayne

Princess Elia,  
I apologize for the intrusion, but I am indisposed today and can’t go riding as we had planned. The maid I am sending this with can attest to that, unfortunately for her. I would love to ride again soon, however, if you are available.   
Yours,  
Ashara

Princess Elia,  
Please accept my condolences on the death of your mother. To lose one’s mother is a horrible tragedy - the pain of losing mine is still fresh, even a year later. Take comfort in the fact that your mother’s legacy lives on through you and your own strength. If there is anything I can do for you, only let me know and it shall be done.   
Yours,  
Ashara

Princess,  
The maester won’t allow us to visit you so soon after Rhaenys’s birth, but us ladies snuck in to see her. She looks just like you, Elia. I’m praying for your speedy recovery.   
Ashara

My dearest Elia,  
I’m leaving this on your pillow in plain view to prove that Rhaegar never pays attention. Don’t scold me for my risk-taking, love, your husband’s head is too full of his harp to notice if I came to you nude singing Dornish drinking songs. I may do that. Or if you’d prefer, spend the night with me. I need you in my arms again, love.   
Yours forever,   
Ashara

My love,  
I’m writing this quickly. King Aerys has declared that all your ladies be sent away. He sees treason in every corner. Do whatever you can to be allowed away from here, Elia, you call me fearless and yet I fear for you. Come back to Dorne, bring Rhaenys and Aegon. Stay with me in Starfall, I beg of you. I love you.   
Ashara

Elia,  
I don’t know why I’m sending this. Can a raven deliver to the heavens? Never fear, I shall memorize this note and deliver it to you myself. You said I was bold enough to have been a knight, but I’m a weak little girl truly. My brother is dead, half the realm is dead, you and your babes are dead, and for what? Who do I have left to live for, Elia? No, I shall go to those who love me most. Tonight. I’ll see you soon, beloved. Tell Aegon and Rhaenys their auntie Ashara is coming for them. Wait for me.   
Yours forever,  
Ashara


	6. Upside Down (Arya/Missandei)

“You are holding the book upside-down.”

Arya scowled and flipped over her book. Then she scowled again, pointing to a letter. “I thought that letter has a line through the top? Look, like this. And see, here’s the end of the sentence.”

Missandei shook her head affectionately. “No, the line on top is a different letter. And in Naathi, lines are read from right to left. It makes more sense that way, as people write with their right hands.”

“I prefer to use my left hand. My septa always scolded me when I used it, though.”

“Then the Naathi writing is to you as your writing is to us. Now, let us start. This story is called the Butterfly Princess.” Missandei repeated the words in Naathi, and Arya obediently did the same. 

The girls had been studying Naathi every day since Arya, forever curious about other cultures, had begun incessantly asking questions to Missandei. The Naathi girl, with her gift for languages, was thrilled to teach someone about her homeland; very few cared to know about it. Arya knew a bit about languages too, and was determined to learn another. 

“The butterfly princess lived in a... land?” Arya asked hesitantly in Naathi. At Missandei’s nod, she continued. “A land of always Spring.” She paused, squinting. 

“The illustrations help,” Missandei offered, in Common. Arya shook her head stubbornly. 

“I haven’t needed illustrations since I was a child. Most books in Westeros don’t even have any.”

Missandei explained, “Neither do ours. But this is a book for children. My mother used to read it to me. It was my favorite story, as a child.” Her voice broke at that. The two only ever spoke of happy memories of Naath, never of her capture or the time she spent enslaved. Arya didn’t push her. There was a lot she didn’t want to tell Missandei either. Maybe some of it, some day. 

Arya set down the text, leaning to take the other girl’s hand in hers. “Thank you, then, for showing it to me.” Missandei blushed, and Arya turned back to the book. She didn’t want to push her. 

In shaky Naathi, she continued the story. “The butterfly princess loved the... lady? Of the flowers?” Missandei nodded again, and the meaning of the words actually hit her.

“They loved each other? As husband and wife?”

“Such things are not forbidden in Naath. The goddess of harmony blesses all love,” the other girl explained. “I know it is not like that here.”

Arya sighed. “No, but it should be.” Gazing at her tutor, she found herself wishing it was. 

Missandei caught her eyes. Before Arya could look away or apologize, Missandei reached forward and squeezed her hand again. “Yes,” she said. “It should.”


	7. Dark (Brienne/Margaery)

Even clad in mourning clothes, Margaery was beautiful. Her black gown was belted with gold, and a black veil all but covered her hair. She was the image of a mourning widow, but looked as innocent as the Maid herself. 

Once Brienne might have felt envy. Now, though, she only felt sadness. 

“I shan’t have to keep up this farce much longer,” Margaery had confided in her earlier. “Father means for me to marry Joffrey instead, now. With our armies, he ought to overlook the whole treason thing.”

Brienne had hesitantly asked, “Is that what you want?” There were less than flattering comments about the bastard boy king, and yet Margaery’s own father was sending her to his bed. 

Margaery had laughed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Why, I wish to be a queen, and elevate House Tyrell. What more could I wish for, Brienne?”

But until such a deal was finalized, Brienne stood guard as Margaery greeted the last of the mourners at the funeral, gently greeting them and thanking them for their wishes. _She is good at this,_ thought Brienne. _I would have mumbled and cried, but she looks at peace._ Not for the first time, she wondered if Margaery really did care for her husband. 

As the last people began to leave, Margaery turned towards her guard. “I wish Loras could be here. Renly meant so much more to him than to me, but no one will think to comfort him. Or you, sweetling.”

“Me, my lady?” Brienne blushed under Margaery’s intense gaze, stammering as she tried to remember what form of address to use. Margaery sighed indulgently. 

“No need to hide it, dear. I know the way you looked at us, the kindnesses he did for you. There’s no shame in loving him.”

“But I didn’t. Love him, I mean,” blurted out Brienne. And it was true. She thought she did, once, but it was more gratitude towards the first man to ever be kind to her. Renly was kind and charming, and she supposed she would have been happy with him, but over time she had turned her eye towards his wife. Naturally beautiful, but with no scorn nor pity towards Brienne, Margaery always had a witty comment or a kind word. She lit up any room she walked into, and Brienne found her dreams changing from spending time with Renly to being Renly, able to spend time with Margaery. 

Margaery’s sharp gaze softened after a few seconds. “You do mean that, don’t you.” Then, before Brienne could react (she would have to work on her response times in training, she thought vaguely), Margaery’s lips were upon hers, and her hands gently caressing Brienne’s freckled cheek, and for just a moment Brienne let herself be held and loved. 

Margaery pulled away too soon. “A parting gift for you, I’m afraid.” Brienne took a step backward, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly as she tried to process the last half-minute. Margaery continued. “The Rainbow Guard is no more, and Joff wouldn’t be as inclined to forgive your treason. If he did, court life would be miserable for you, sweetling. And it would be too risky to keep you close to me. No, you ought to return to Tarth. Find another lover - or do not. Love is rare for us ladies, I suppose, and not oft worth it.”

At Brienne’s lack of response, Margaery sighed, then turned around. “You are dismissed, Brienne. I must needs visit my brother.” Her dark gown dragged on the floor as she left, but Margaery kept her head high and did not look back. 

Brienne remained stoic until she reached her chambers. Then, she let the tears silently fall, as she wondered if anyone would truly love her.


	8. Makeup (Arya/Myrcella)

“Will you do my makeup?”

Myrcella blinked. Then she blinked again. Then she said, “Who are you and what have you done with Arya Stark?”

Arya rolled her eyes from where she sat perched on Myrcella’s bed. “Ha ha. I’m trying to impress a cute girl, if you must know, and I have to ask either you or Sansa. And I’m _not_ asking Sansa.” 

The thought of Arya trying to impress a girl made Myrcella’s heart sink, but she forced a smile. It wasn’t Arya’s fault that she’d been crushing on the Stark girl for almost a year. “Honey, any girl that doesn’t love you without makeup doesn’t deserve you. But sure, I’ll help you. Come on.”

She led Arya into the bathroom, where dozens of tiny bottles and palettes lined the counters. Cersei Lannister had been instructing Myrcella in makeup since middle school; she could do it in her sleep. “Sit,” she directed, pointing to the counter. Arya hopped up without protest. 

Arya was darker than her, but for some reason Myrcella had foundation in every color imaginable, and quickly found one that worked. “This is a base,” she explained, showing her friend the bottle. The contour, concealer, and highlighter came next, until Arya groaned and said, “Seven Hells, how many things go on just the face?”

Myrcella laughed. “You asked for it, wolf girl. Close your eyes. You wanted to impress your girl.”

Arya mumbled, “She always has such pretty makeup.” Myrcella shushed her and began to apply. As her hands worked, she tried to imagine who the girl was. Shireen and Lyanna didn’t wear much makeup. Obella did, but she was dating someone already. Was it an older girl?

Finally, she finished off Arya’s face with a deep red lipstick. “You’d look better with a dramatic, A. Your face deserves to pop.” She closed the tube and gestured for Arya to get off the counter and look at herself. 

Her friend’s expression was unreadable. Myrcella found herself nervously fidgeting, hoping she would approve. “Go on, now ask your girl out,” she said, to fill the silence. 

Arya looked oddly nervous herself - did she hate the makeup? But instead, she leaned forward and said, “Okay.” There was a pause, and then, “Myrcella Baratheon, will you go out with me?”

Myrcella was facing away from the mirror, so she couldn’t see the look of shock on her own face. But before Arya could start to panic, she half-screamed, “Yes! Oh, of course Arya!”

As she leaned forward to hug her friend, she laughed, “But you didn’t need the makeup! I would’ve said yes anyway!”

Arya just smirked and pulled her into a kiss. It completely messed up the lipstick Myrcella had applied for her, but neither girl cared.


	9. Ocean

Asha Greyjoy may have been the best captain in the Iron Isles (or so she told herself), but even she could not control the winds. As the last of her ship sunk in the ocean, Asha closed her eyes and waited for the Drowned God’s embrace that her uncle Aeron had told her about.

Instead, her eyes opened on an island. It was not one of the ones her father ruled; it was empty, save for small trees that blossomed with fruit. Her right arm ached. When she looked at it, she saw a makeshift splint had been set, used for broken bones. That meant that someone else was here. She reached for her axe, but it was gone, lost in the shipwreck. 

If her companion had set her arm rather than slit her throat, they couldn’t be that bad, she reasoned. “Hello?” she called out.

In response, Asha heard a noise; not from the island behind her, but a splash from the ocean. She turned to see the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, with silver hair and violet eyes. The eyes were the same color as her tail - and oh, she had a fish’s tail rather than legs. 

Uncle Rodrik told her stories about mermaids, but she had never seen one.

“Did you do this?” She gestured toward her arm. The ethereal woman nodded once. “Thank you.” There was no response. “I’m Asha Greyjoy.” Still nothing. “Do you talk?”

“I can,” said the mermaid. “I’m Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Well, Daenerys Targaryen, what happened?”

Asha learned that her ship was destroyed, all of her belongings lost at sea, her crew dead - and that pained her, they had been friends of hers. The mermaid had found her unconscious and acted on instinct, bringing her to the island and taking care of her. She had been there for almost three days. “I feared you would never wake up,” confessed the mermaid.

“Well, thank you for that. I’ve some experience with fishing, so I suppose I can last from here.”

Daenerys looked doubtful. “Without your arm? I will bring you fish, and there’s fruit on the island. Don’t strain yourself.”

Asha wanted to protest, but even gesturing with her right arm led to her biting down to keep from screaming in pain. She reluctantly accepted.

And so every day, the mermaid would come, bringing fish for her to eat. Asha convinced her to stay a while every day, and she learned that Daenerys was a deposed princess in the merling kingdom, who now traveled throughout the seas alone. In turn, Asha told her about life in the islands, warring and raiding. “This might be the longest I’ve been without training since I was a child,” she admitted after about a fortnight had passed. Daenerys hadn’t responded to that, but she had come closer to the shore and given Asha a quick hug.

Then, one day, Daenerys came earlier than usual. “Asha! I saw a ship!” She described the sails of Euron Greyjoy, and said they were only a short swim away. “I can have them come to you!”

Asha grinned. Euron had always hated her family, but he wouldn’t hate the ransom money Balon would pay for her. Or, she could just jump off and swim to land once she was close enough; her arm was all but healed, now. “That’s great! Please do, Daenerys.” As the mermaid left, she realized she would miss these quiet days with Daenerys - but it could never last, could it.

When the sail appeared, Euron dismounted, flanked by four men, his blue lips smirking more than usual. “Dear niece! How glad I am you’re returned to me. Balon would be overjoyed to hear his precious daughter is alive.” Asha reluctantly approached the shore. Euron reached out a hand to help her, which she pushed away. 

Euron caught her right hand and yanked it, hard. Asha swore and stumbled a bit, letting her uncle’s men grab her and pin her to the ground. Euron smirked. “Poor Balon will have to learn that his little girl died, off doing a man’s job. And when he dies mysteriously as well, and I return in glory with a dead mermaid, well, who better to be King?”

Somehow, only the words dead mermaid reached Asha’s ears. And at the realization she had let Daenerys to her death, she found the strength to kick out at Euron. It barely hurt him, but it knocked him towards the waves. He growled and made to lunge for her as Asha struggled against her restrainers. 

But rather than Euron come to her, the waves came to him, and where Euron had been standing there was Daenerys Targaryen, her long silver hair blowing in the wind. She smirked. “Not dead yet, but he is.”

With their captain dead, Asha’s captors were easy enough to release, and she rushed to the waves to pull Daenerys into a long kiss. When they separated, both women were grinning.

“You know,” said Asha conversationally, “There’s a fully crewed ship here in need of a captain. Think I’ll take up the role. Want to come alongside?”

It turned out Daenerys was very willing, and she proved that willingness with another kiss.


	10. Competition (Arya/Lyanna)

“Okay team, this is the most important match yet.”

Arya addressed the Direwolves, the currently undefeated soccer team en route to the state championships. Finally, Arya was team captain, and she _was_ going to be the one to lead this team to victory. She looked out at the other girls, hoping her focused expression emphasized the importance of this matter.

It didn’t. In fact, Beth Cassel looked at her strangely and said, “Are you okay, Arya? Your face looks weird.”

She sighed and relaxed her face. “Yes, Beth, I’m fine.”

“Good. So, uh, why is this one so important?”

It took all of Arya’s willpower not to roll her eyes. “Because the Bears have only lost one game, which means if they defeat us now, we’ll be tied in the rankings. Don’t you want to go to state? If so, we have to defeat the Bears.”

“So, it’s not just the fact that you made out with their captain over the summer and now you’re bitter about it,” clarified Wylla Manderly. Arya was going to scream.

“Look, can we just start practicing before Coach Tarth gets here?”

Yes, Arya thought as she led the girls on a jog around the track, she and Lyanna Mormont _had_ gotten drunk at the end-of-summer party, and things had gone a bit farther than normal. It had _maybe_ hurt a little bit when Lyanna ignored her the next day, and they hadn’t spoken since. But it had _definitely_ been a bad decision, and a worse decision to tell her friends on the team about it, and now she was 100% over the captain of the Bears. It was only statistics that made this an important match, and not the chance to kick a soccer ball in Lyanna’s face.

Really.

But when the match started, and Arya saw Lyanna was starting at defense, she did take a bit more joy than usual at kicking the ball right past her and in to the goal.

Despite her early success, though, the Bears ended up winning the game, with both teams going neck and neck until Lyanna Mormont herself made a (pretty damn impressive, if Arya was being honest with herself, which she wasn’t) kick from halfway across the field, going right over the head of goalie Alys Karstark and her desperate dive. With less than a minute in the game, the Direwolves had no chance.

It took everything she had not to glare at Lyanna’s smug face when the two shook hands after the game. And when Lyanna leaned over and whispered, “Want to grab a drink after this?”, Arya snapped.

“Really? You ignore me for half a year, and then try and _get a drink_ with me once you win?” Arya whisper-yelled.

Lyanna sighed. “Just a friendly offer, Stark. Didn’t want to cause any drama during the season, but now that it’s almost over, thought we could rekindle the fun?”

She wanted to smack her smug smirk off, but settled with simply squeezing Lyanna’s hand harder than strictly necessary during their handshake. And when Lyanna retaliated, Arya completely ignored how turned on it made her.

Arya didn’t know how she ended up in a bar with her biggest rival again. She definitely didn’t know how she ended up being pushed against a wall as Lyanna groped at her shirt. She extremely didn’t know how she dragged Lyanna into the hotel down the street.

“If we end up playing against each other in the finals, I’m still gonna kick your ass, Mormont,” she whispered as she pulled off Lyanna’s shorts.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” replied Lyanna before pulling Arya into another kiss.


End file.
